The Outwaters is an immersive hellmouth waiting to, quite literally, swallow us up and spit us back out into the landscape more horrified of what the universe is capable of than ever before — and trust me, you don't stand a chance against what it has in store for you.

What The Pod Generation lacks in cohesion it (mostly) makes up for in laughs.

While Snook and LaTorre give it their all, Run Rabbit Run is just another example of a movie not working unless it knows what it wants to be.

While this movie's story may sound familiar — it's about a religious teenage girl's sexual awakening in a stuffy community that would rather never address such things — its success is dependent on its execution, and writer/director Laurel Parmet, in her feature directorial debut, hits every target she aims for along the way.

The biggest strengths of the film are its sharp script and phenomenal lead actors, both of whom give committed performances which vacillate between ruthless pragmatism and explosive emotionality.

If "Cat Person" could just strip away all the nonsense and instead focus on its more realistic, genuine elements, it would be something special. Instead, it ends up being a mildly amusing mixed bag. 

Cronenberg creates an atmosphere of nauseating dread through it all as things grow increasingly deranged. No fooling: this is not an easy movie to watch. It gets under your skin and makes your flesh crawl. It infects you. You'll probably want to take a shower after the credits roll, and then take another shower just to be sure you're extra clean.

Magazine Dreams will alienate some viewers, but even those who aren't able to get on board with what Bynum is doing will be unable to deny how incredible Jonathan Majors is here. It's the type of unique, highly memorable performance people talk about for years to come.

For a film that grapples with so many capital-letter themes about loss, identity, and perseverance, it's the central question about belonging — and our difficulties in ever really getting to know how we fit into another person's life, even a spouse or parental figure — that truly sets After Love apart.

Alice Darling successfully lays bare the realities emotional and verbal abuse has on victims, while also highlighting how the smallest shows of support can be exactly what victims need to change their circumstances.

Blaze is bold, striking, visionary cinema that makes for an astonishing debut. Its magnificent blend of puppetry, animation, and visual effects allows it to stand out from the crowd, but it also allows for an impressive interrogation of the human mind, delivered with tremendous empathy.

If you're looking for a creepy children horror film to watch, "There's Something Wrong with the Children" will deliver that in half-measures. But there are enough bloody thrills and dramatic tension at play here to make it a fun romp for a Friday night and bowl of popcorn.

Ride Your Wave may be predictable, but it quickly becomes a charming and heartfelt story about loss and clinging to life, one with realistic and likeable characters that may even teach you something about yourself.

What viewers are left with is a bold, twisting, and audacious thriller that will leave you breathless ... though maybe a bit underwhelmed by a nagging sense of déjà vu, too.

The film drags considerably — at one point I thought it was almost over only to realize there was a full hour left — but the over-the-top religious hokum is too fun to ignore.

It's a movie that delivers exactly what it promises. You pull up to the drive-thru, you order your food, you get what you pay for. A fine Saturday afternoon if you ask me.

The film's introspective approach works well for developing mood, and its reliance on implied events, rather than telling or otherwise revealing the history, invites the audience to fill these gaps, thereby forcing participation in the narrative construction. It's a powerful debut for Wells, and a pleasure to watch.

From a horror standpoint, M3GAN could be scarier, but it's difficult enough for a film to balance suspense, a nuanced look at grief, and intelligently meta jokes, and M3GAN does all that surprisingly well. The long and the short of it is that, while M3GAN could perhaps be scarier and it doesn't feel entirely conceptually novel, it's a genuinely great addition to the horror-comedy canon.

A Man Called Otto has its moments, both humorous and heartwarming, and it works better than it should due to the strength of its performances. Unfortunately, it's also plagued by choices that blunt its overall coherence, seeming like Forster wanted to make an entirely different kind of film than the material dictated.

There are snapshots of something greater here; hints of a grander mystery, a bigger twist, a better climax. Alas, we can only ponder, weak and weary, over what that better film could have been.

This is just another run-of-the-mill, dramatically limp music biopic meant to be pure brand management. There are so many scenes of Naomi Ackie lip-synching full performances of these songs, and all you can say is, "Yeah, Whitney Houston was such a great singer." I don't need this movie to know that. I can just stay home and listen to her, which is an infinitely more rewarding experience.

One can't help but note the irony of a film about the pivot from the silent era to the talkies having such a loud, booming start but ending with a muffled thud.

The film occasionally has trouble balancing the two subjects, with the more personal side of the doc occasionally getting lost in the archival clips and photos of the Hollywood fervor Spaz stirred up with his innovations. But it's still fascinating, insightful, and certainly entertaining.

Avatar: The Way of Water overstays its welcome but it sure is thrilling when it wants to be.

Like in her previous works, director Hansen-Løve has a gentleness when painting the portrait of women living and enduring in transitions, often exiting the bubble of a relationship or (re)entering.

It wastes the potential silver screen magic you could have by casting Hawke and McGregor as once-close brothers who are forced together by a death that they both have difficulty grieving.

There's something near-magical about the strands of multicolored lights that occupy nearly every frame of the film, offering a winter wonderland contrast to all the carnage. 

While its premise is fairly run-of-the-mill for a teen flick, its underlying messaging and approach to a taboo subject matter elevates the material into a uniquely moving film fit for ages pre-teen and up. Darby and the Dead feels made by people who have gone through a hard loss: It's a love letter to those grieving, reminding us not to forget to celebrate life too.